Ideal Normalcy
by Cortexikid
Summary: She made it back. Now she has to deal with the destruction left behind by her alter-self. Her life, her job, her family, her everything, the same yet, not. But when she looks into his uniquely coloured eyes they are exactly how she remembers...P/O
1. Home At Last

**Ideal Normalcy**

**By Cortexikid**

**A/N: Just the first chapter of a little two-shot with some smutty goodness (in the next chapter) to tide us over until September.**

**I suppose it could be linked to my two other fics "Pain, Fear, Love" and "Fleeting Moments" but it can just be read by itself too.**

**Disclaimer: If I were in charge of Fringe, Peter would find out about "Bolivia" in the first episode of Season 3 and kick her ass until she told him her devious plans and how he can get Olivia back. Seen as I've no idea how anything will actually go down, is pretty good indicator that I am not in charge, nor own Fringe. Sigh.**

So she made it back.

After weeks of being caged up like an animal in a zoo for the viewing pleasure of one Secretary of Defense Walter Bishop, Olivia Dunham managed to escape, thanks to the experiments performed on her as a child by an entirely different Walter Bishop.

Explaining her recent "oddness" to Rachel over the last couple of weeks had been easy, she merely feigned (well not entirely) tiredness and stress over being on an "uncover assignment"(hence the hair alteration) that was of course, classified.

She had all her bases covered. Until it came to her niece.

"Aunt Liv, is it really you?" the girl had asked upon her arriving home for the first time in many weeks.

"Of course, baby-girl, who else would I be?" she replied, trying not to glance at Peter nervously as they entered the living room.

The little girl regarded her aunt for a moment, and as if suddenly making a definite decision she exclaimed, "I missed you!" before wrapping her arms around her Olivia's waist and smiling up at her.

"Don't be silly, silly, you only saw me last week," Olivia continued the lie, clutching her niece back, trying not to seem more frantically relieved upon seeing her for the first time in actually two months.

Rachel smirked in her direction, seeing her daughter's reaction.

"Honestly, Liv, she's been like that for the last few weeks, asking when you're coming back even when you've just gone to the store. Hi Peter, it's been a while," she smiled, turning her attention to the man standing quietly in the doorway.

Olivia had almost forgotten he was there in her haste to greet her niece; she had to force herself not to hug her sister with the gripping intensity in which she desperately wanted to. She had thought she'd never seen them again, after all. But the plan was to remain nice and normal, well as normal as she could manage after everything.

"Hey Rach, yeah I was away for a while and when I got back things were just crazy at work. How've you been?" Olivia was grateful for Peter's charm – even if it was temporarily directed at her sister, as it gave her time to study her surroundings.

Everything seemed so…familiar, exactly the way she left it. Except, she knew better. She tried not to think about that alter-bitch touching any of her things, wearing her clothes, sleeping in her bed, bathing herself in her shower, eating her food, watching her TV with her niece…spending time with her Pete-

Suddenly, it was all too much.

"Uh, I'm-I'll be right back…bathroom," she mumbled, covering her mouth with the back of her hand to disguise her laboured breath.

She barely made it to the bathroom before the shaking took control of her limbs. She sat on the toilet seat, head in her hands, breathing in and out deeply, trying to gain control of herself.

It had been like this the last eleven days that she had been back. And she had spent the entirety of those eleven days making sure that she was well enough (in every sense of the word) to finally go home.

They had her alter-self in custody, arresting her and keeping her captive on the third day of Olivia's return. She had demanded that the alter act normal and calm, telling her sister she was going on a operation for a while and would not be able to contact her – all the while being under strict supervision by a team sent by Agent Broyles, of course.

This was Olivia's only source of comfort these last few days as she tried to deal with everything.

"'Livia," a soft voice came from behind the door, "are you okay?"

Okay, so maybe it wasn't her only source of comfort.

"Peter…" she mumbled, leaning forward and clutching the sink before opening the unlocked door. She found it hard to lock anything now.

Barely half a second passed before he was standing in her quaint en-suite bathroom with her, shutting the door gently, gazing down at her.

"Hey…" he trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

It had been, tense, to say the least, these past eleven days. Between the shock of her return, recovering physically in the hospital to the mental strain she found herself under, everything was just so difficult.

They had still yet to fully talk about what happened to her. But Peter was not going to rush it; he cared too much and would not rock her already fragile state.

"Hey…" she whispered, still standing with her left hand clutching the edge of the sink.

She had spent time making sure that the sickly, pale, frail look had subsided somewhat but as she caught a glance of herself in the mirror she could clearly see the evidence conveyed. Her eyes lowered, not wishing to linger on herself when she felt a soft pressure on her arm.

Turning, she saw Peter's hand resting gently on her. Slowly, she dragged her eyes up to meet his. She could see herself reflected in his gaze and like the mirror they showed the truth, the harsh reality that she now faced, the haunting in her eyes that had intensified. So she settled her gaze elsewhere.

On his lips.

It was almost by accident, but a part of her knew that that on some level it was a conscious decision. They too had yet to discuss anything that had happened before her capture (for obvious reasons) but now, as she stood here in her bathroom, silently tracing the outline of his mouth with her gaze, she couldn't help but cast her mind back, to what seemed like an eternity ago, to the moment where her heart had skipped a beat.

"Peter…I-I don't know how to…" she shook her head, frustrated with herself as she felt the familiar sting threaten her eyes.

The pressure left her arm and clutched her cheek, stroking softly, familiarly, and she closed her eyes, leaning into the touch with such minute caution that Peter may have imagined it.

"'Livia…you…you're not alone in this. If you need me, I'm here," he whispered, leaning forward slightly, trying to catch her eye again.

Softly, he nudged her chin to rise.

She complied, out of what she didn't know but like the times that they stood close like this before she felt drawn to him, her eyes finding his almost without her consent. Looking into those handsome mixture of blue and green, a soft smile graced her lips for the first time in what felt like years.

"Peter I think I ne-"

"-Liv, are you alright in there?"

The two jumped a little as the tap on the door and Rachel's concerned voice interrupted them. Peter flashed her a quick grin as the two stared at each other for a moment, their predicament dawning on them.

"Uh, yeah Rach I'm fine, just-just getting into the shower…" she trailed off, her brow furrowing at the terrible lie.

"Oh, okay, well, I just wanted to let you know that me and Ella are gonna hit the road, I've got some friends coming over to my place in a while so…hey do you know where Peter went? He was here just a second ago…"

Olivia heard the badly contained smugness lacing her tone. She knew damn well where Peter was…or at least had a fair idea. It made Olivia wonder just how much time her alter-self and Peter spent together, especially around her sister.

Sensing her thoughts going in undesirable directions she quickly changed course, "oh he had to go back to the lab, something for work, I'm gonna get ready and meet him there in a bit. I'll see you later, Rach, you and Ella have fun," she finished, trying to keep her voice as normal as possible as Peter shook his head, he too badly concealing his smirk.

"Okay…bye Liv," came the almost sing-song reply.

Olivia listened intently for her sister's retreating footsteps, all the while ignoring the man next to her. After a moment she heard a small voice call "bye Aunt Liv" before the front door closed with a dignified snap.

Olivia could hardly bring herself to look at Peter, but she decided to face the music and was met by his uniquely coloured orbs dancing with unshed laughter.

She smiled softly again, allowing a little of it to grace her own eyes before gesturing towards the door.

"I guess we should…"

"Yeah…"

The two left the small room silently and walked out into the open living room. Olivia went straight to the kitchen, pulling a glass out of the cabinet before searching for something in every available space. Peter watched intently as a frown began to form on her face.

"She-she got rid of it all…apparently she doesn't like the taste."

Neither acknowledged who or what he was talking about or she looking for. Olivia slowly lowered the empty glass to the table.

"Did she tell you that?"

It wasn't something she thought she was ready to talk about yet, but the words had tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. Without turning, she could tell that he was as uncomfortable talking about this as she was but that didn't mean she didn't want an answer.

"Yeah, when they took her in I-I asked her a few questions. Why I never saw her drink and why she turned them down happened to be one of them."

Olivia nodded, turning around but not looking at him.

Peter could tell that this seemingly simple conversation was getting to her and wanted desperately to change the subject.

"Huh so that would have been something to explain, right? Why we were both in your bathroom while-"

"Don't. Peter."

Those two words stopped him in his tracks. He was at a loss of what to do. He usually was so good with words, always knew just the right thing to say in any circumstance, but here, now, with her, after everything…the words just wouldn't come.

"Look, I'm gonna get some rest okay? I've gotta go see Broyles in a couple of hours, discuss tactics and…so I'll see you later?" she posed it as a question but Peter still felt the plea behind it.

She wanted to be left alone.

Yet he did not want to comply.

"Yeah, you should get some rest, it's been a long day," he replied, while turning on the spot and sitting down on her couch, looking around for the remote.

"What are you doing?" she asked, not irked but certainly confused.

"What's it look like I'm doing? It's been so long since I've watched some bad day-time TV, I might as well catch up now," behind his light-hearted words he knew he was taking a huge risk here. Olivia Dunham was not the type of woman that would like the thought of being looked after or 'babysat' but he could not bring himself to leave.

"Peter…" he heard the warning in her tone but…her eyes spoke a different language altogether. He glanced up at her and caught her gaze and at that moment he saw so many whirling emotions reflecting back at him that he did not know how to respond.

Relief. Regret. Frustration. Anger. Pain. Fear. Warmth. Affection…

He knew she was battling with herself. Battling with her usual hardened self, but after all she'd been through, he guessed she just had no fight left in her for an argument.

Olivia knew, deep down, there was no chance of him leaving and a part of her (the part that would struggle to admit it) was so grateful for that. For him.

Turning towards her bedroom, she decided not to acknowledge his decision any further, just mumbling "I'll be back in an hour" as she tried to ignore the familiar tingle in her stomach as she felt his eyes follow her.

That was when she saw it. Her bed. Her bed that was tossed and unmade as if someone had been sleeping in it for days while experiencing vivid nightmares.

She backed out of the room silently, trying to ebb away the images of the other her sleeping with her head on the pillow, the blankets pooled around her knees.

As if they couldn't get worse, the image sprang to mind of her not alone in her bed. With a familiar man wrapped around her, kissing her neck, murmuring her name…

It was sickening.

Peter glanced up as he saw Olivia return, a look of confusion, hurt and disgust on her face.

"Livia, what's wrong?" he asked, standing up and walking over to her.

She wanted to ask him, really she did, but she just couldn't bring herself to. To show such…weakness, concern over what might have been.

He would have told her though, wouldn't he?

"Peter I…I think I'd like to watch some bad day-time TV instead…" she mumbled, not looking at him as she walked over to the couch and sat down.

"Okay…whatever you want, it's your house," he chanced a smile as he sat down beside her and passed her the remote.

Nodding, she began flicking through channels, her eyes looking but not seeing. Peter sat back into the couch, his head turned towards the TV but his eyes flickering to her every few moments.

It seems normalcy (whatever normalcy people like them could get) was proving a bit more difficult than they both idealistically thought…

**A/N: So I may not see this happening in Season 3 but I had fun writing it all the same. The next chapter will more than likely be rated M so I'll be changing the rating, just to let you know.**

**Reviews are appreciated =]**


	2. Fire and Fear

**Ideal Normalcy**

**By Cortexikid**

**Chapter 2: Fire and Fear**

**A/N: So, with a burst of inspiration that randomly attacked me, I've decided to make this fic a tad bigger. I don't have any desire to make it huge (as some of it I would consider never to be a possibility of actually gracing our screens) but it will be just one or two chapters more than I first anticipated, so yeah. **

**WARNING! A little bit of teasing for my proper M-rated stuff to follow…I haven't upped the rating yet, but tell me if I need to, please!**

**Oh and THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to all of you who have reviewed, favourited, alerted etc. this story, it means the world to me! You rock! =] **

Flickering glimmers of harsh light flooded her senses. A sound, so rapid, like the wings of a frantic hummingbird, rang in her ears. She struggled against the restraints, willing her head to turn just that minute fraction so she could catch a glimpse of…

Him.

She could feel the heat before witnessing the flame. White hot and furious, it licked the inner contours of her body, rising like a pit of loathing deep in her chest. It was surging through her veins, setting alight this wondrous feeling of power, more so than she had ever experienced in her entire life. She felt unburdened almost, uplifted, enlightened and in control of her surroundings for the first time in many, many moments.

Direction was never the aim. Even if it was she was unsure of how exactly to achieve such a thing. She could feel his eyes on her, watching intently behind his protective glass. Eyes so familiar to her but so very, very hardened, so she focused all her attention on them. She would not let him stare her down. Not like this.

Not ever.

The explosion shook the ground beneath her feet and the very fibre of her being…

The very last thing she saw was him, furiously waving and barking orders at unseen allies. A small, sly smirk graced her lips…that was her cue to leave.

* * *

Olivia awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in her bed. The after affects of her dream, memory, etched into her muddled, sleep-ridden brain. They had become a regular nightly occurrence of late. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she wiped the beads of sweat that glistened her forehead. She took two deep breaths trying to regulate her frantic gasps.

"Livia?" a groggy yet concerned voice whispered into the darkness.

She turned slowly to her left, a small smile sneaking onto her face without her permission.

"Sorry…just a dream, go back to sleep," she murmured, shifting in the bed slightly, preparing to get out.

"Oh no you don't," came the speedy reply as a pair of strong, warm arms wrapped around her waist from behind and pulled her back down onto the mattress.

The disobedient smile grew larger as the room was illuminated in a soft, bed-side light and she was confronted by her late-night companion. Hands, soft but sturdy, cradled each side of her face as two blue-green eyes stared down at her, twinkling brightly.

"Peter, you should go back to sleep, we have work in the-"

"-Shhh…" he interrupted quietly, a finger pressing to her lips. It must have been the exhaustion in her because otherwise she never would have let him away with shushing her. But, tonight she felt herself comply and she was rewarded with a cheeky grin and a soft peck on the cheek.

Now, she couldn't have that.

His lips connected with her skin in a gentle touch, barely heavier than a butterfly's wing. As he pulled back to gaze down at her once more, she raised her signature eyebrow, biting her bottom lip.

He knew what that meant.

Slowly, she encircled her arms around his clothed back, stroking the fabric over his shoulder blades lightly with her fingers. Peter responded happily, suddenly wide awake, his hands trailing down each side of her body, stopping to clasp her waist, his thumbs rubbing circles into her exposed flesh.

"What happened to work tomorrow?" he murmured into her ear, his hot breath ricocheting off her skin causing a fleet of goose bumps to appear. She could barely contain the goaded shiver that threatened to escape her.

"I did say you should get some sleep…" she mumbled, adopting an innocent tone, before her nimble fingers travelled down, tantalisingly slow to the hem of his t-shirt, "but then you started to tease me…and I don't like being teased," she finished, a full, sly grin plastered on her face as she expertly removed his t-shirt at lightening speed.

If the man weren't used to such a thing, he would have been surprised at her vigour. Shaking his head, he laughed lightly, before being cut off by his girlfriend's lips capturing his.

Peter's heart raced in his chest as Olivia nibbled roughly on his lower lip. The kiss deepened, their tongues wrestling for dominance as they usually did. Olivia ran her hands down his bare chest, only halting as she reached the fascinating line of light brown hair that travelled from his navel. Peter could feel the smirk beginning to form as she further lowered her hands with deliberate impatience, reaching out to drag down the plain black boxers that were now covering the evidence of his obvious enjoyment.

"Nuh uh," he said suddenly, pulling his lips from hers, clasping her hands in his and looking deeply into her eyes that were now heavy lidded, clouded with desire.

"Peter-"

He cut her off with a chaste kiss to the nape of her neck, teeth gently nipping and sucking as he pulled the tank top over her head. It seemed he wanted to level out the playing field. His mouth left her neck, leaving a hot trail of kisses around her throat, down her collar bone to rest on her breasts, that were now, he noted happily, laid bare in front of him.

He looked up at her, then, as she lay half naked underneath him. She was gazing down at him with those same desire-ridden irises, and yet, he detected a hint of something else there entirely. A shine, a small glint of something behind those complex orbs as she gasped out little turfs of breath, her hand raising to stroke his hair.

He knew there were more being said silently at this moment then either of them were willing to admit, so he raised up on his elbows and met her lips, softer this time, slower than before.

And then, he felt it. And so did she. Like they always did.

_I love you._

The infamous, unspoken words between them. The three little words that always made an appearance at times like these, always silently, and for that the two were grateful.

Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how he looked at it) Peter realized that this was a night that Olivia was feeling particularly impish. Meaning, she used his temporary moment of "weakness" to turn the tables on him.

"Humph!" he exclaimed, his lips never leaving hers as she flipped him over, quickly straddling him.

Softly, she broke the kiss, pecking him lightly on the jaw, before staring down at him, her beautifully olive eyes glinting triumphantly at her success. Peter just shook his head, laughing a little, before reaching up and laying a biting kiss to her breast, his hand massaging the other.

Though she'd never admit it, Peter had the most profound effect on Olivia, especially in moments such as these. She fought the urge arch her back and groan (as she knew that would just be too easy) so, she decided to inflict her own form of 'render-him-idiotic' blissful torture…and with an IQ such as Peter's, Olivia took special pride in her efforts.

"Peter…" she murmured, her breath bouncing rhythmically against his ear, as she slipped her hands down into his boxers.

"Olivia…" he whispered, half-groaning in response to her wandering hands as he fought to keep his eyes open. Olivia leant forward, her soft hair tickling his chest as she bent her neck to kiss him.

And that's when he saw it. The small, oddly shaped, black and red tattoo…

* * *

Peter's eyes snapped open, his breathing jagged as he frantically searched his surroundings. It was considerably darker, he noticed, as his gaze flickering to the television in the corner that was casting an eerie glowing shadow into the dimly lit apartment. He didn't remember falling asleep. Frowning, he continued to look around and realized his was on Olivia's couch.

Turning his head to the left, his eyes were greeted by a calming sight, Olivia, the real Olivia was curled up, fast asleep. As the dream-turned-nightmare remained etched into his brain, he found himself staring down at his companion. A frown graced her face, a crease forming between her eyebrows as she shivered a little.

Before he knew what he was doing, Peter shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her. She stirred for a moment, turning in his direction. He just hoped she wasn't having a nightmare - he really didn't want to wake her up, this was the first real rest she'd gotten since they sedated her in hospital.

He kept his gaze on her, longer than necessary, drinking in her form for the first time since she returned. He hated thinking back to that painful time when she came hurdling back to this universe (literally), badly damaged (both inside and out) and so…fragile, so…un-Olivia. He knew, logically, that was mere days ago but now, now that she was home, he hoped, damn-near prayed (almost) that this was the road to a full recovery.

He tried talking to her about it, hoping and wishing she would open up to him. But, so far, she was practically mute on the subject, only providing the necessary details, ala she was the real Olivia, the other was from Over There, she was captured (Peter didn't have to guess by whom) and held against her will. But she wouldn't budge on the rest. Her lips remained tightly sealed. And it was killing him.

He couldn't bare the thought of the unknown - his mind was going into overdrive as he imagined what his…father…could have done to her in those many days of darkened incarceration. It made him sick to his stomach thinking about it, and his imagination was hell bent on destroying him. That's when the nightmares started.

Some were glimpses of Olivia being held and having tortuous things done to her, others were of him blissfully unaware that he was being intimate with the wrong Livia and others were like the one he just awoke from, his Livia's escape from that man, the pain she went through, while he was busy sleeping with her doppelganger.

The uncharted guilt plagued him every day of her return as he thought, really thought of his behaviour with Alt-Olivia the last few weeks. He had his suspicions right from the start (he does know her well after all) but he kept putting the little…alterations down to - he cringed just thinking about it - the awkwardness between them.

Really, he felt just, idiotic and more than a little narcissistic as he remembered himself, less than a month ago, explaining away all of 'Olivia's' "weirdness" on what happened between them Over There. He was plain disgusted with himself as he finally figured out the truth. How could he be so stupid? It seemed, when it came to matters of the heart, having an IQ of 190 means not a damn thing.

He thanked his lucky stars that it never got physical between him and the other Dunham, he really didn't think he could handle that if his guilt-o-meter was anything to go by now. He felt sick as he reflected on the kiss that happened between, the one that felt so very, very wrong…

As his eyes passed over Olivia's sleeping form once more, he thought back to the real kiss, the one that caused his heart to damn near stop.

_You belong with me._

The four greatest words he'd heard in his thirty two years of life.

That was what it was supposed to feel like. Not the, travesty that he felt when he kissed…_her. _

Sighing, he decided that he couldn't just sit here all night and watch her sleep (even though that's all he wanted desperately to do) so he made plans to make some coffee, just to give him something to do. Just as he was about to stand up, Olivia made a noise and began tossing. He tried not to think of what the noise sounded like…a whimper. She was definitely not having a good dream.

"No…don't…" she whispered into the gloom, beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead.

Before he could stop himself, Peter reached out and cupped her cheek, preparing to wake her. But, gradually, he felt the tension leave her body and the mumbling stop. She was still now, almost relaxed, her breathing deep and even.

When he was satisfied that she was okay, he let go of her cheek, barely restraining himself from kissing her forehead, cheek, lips…Sighing, he stood up and stretched, his aching muscles groaning in protest.

Realizing that continuing to sleep in a seated position would take its toll on Olivia's already wounded body, he considered moving her into her bed before quickly remembering that Olivia would probably not be impressed by that decision.

Going with the safer option (she was the one with the gun after all) he gently placed his arms under her knees and as attentively as possible he shifted her until she was lying down. He knew she must have been exhausted as usually she was such a light sleeper and would wake at the smallest of noise but now she barely moved an inch. He felt himself staring down at her again, drinking in her face that was covered physical evidence of her ordeal. A large faded purple bruise that engulfed almost the entire left side, a split lip with evidence of dried blood, a long, jagged scratch starting from her under right eye…all of it, proof of the horrid truth that Peter wished more than anything that he could have experienced and not her.

Anyone but her.

Sighing, (he had been doing a lot of that lately) he took one last look at her, before turning on his heel and making his way into her kitchen. Emotionally, he felt useless, obsolete, he couldn't…wouldn't out of fear, try and make her talk about everything, but he felt, he needed, to do something, anything useful.

Rummaging in her cabinets, he was thankful that Rachel had packed them full with food as he decided that if he could not help Olivia emotionally than perhaps he could at least help her physically and prepare her some proper food to eat. Of course, Olivia being Olivia, she would probably refrain from eating it, but he had to at least try.

And then maybe, after he tried this, he would gain the courage to try broach something he found a little more fearsome…

**A/N: Okay so I decided to stop it there. I do have more written (where Olivia and Peter finally talk it out about what exactly she went through etc.) but I think that that would work better as a separate chapter. I will have an update ASAP.**

**The next chapter will focus more on Olivia's point of view (what's going on in her head etc.) as this chapter was all Peter.**

**PLEASE PLEASE let me know if I should bump up the rating to 'M' now (as there will more than likely be more of the above to follow that is a lot more in detail) or should I wait until that particular chapter is written and then bump it up?**

**I would love a review or two lol =]**


	3. Dinner Discussions

**Ideal Normalcy**

**By Cortexikid**

**Chapter 3: Dinner Discussions**

**A/N: Sorry for the delay ****in updating, I****'****ve been dealing with on-going illness and going crazy writing one-shots. I've jammed this chapter with lots of conflicting emotions (always a challenge) so hopefully it ended up okay. Enjoy!**

**NOTE: The paragraph(s) in italics are Peter****'****s memories/flashbacks of what really happened between him and Alt-Livia. **

A noise shook her from her disconcerting sleep. A familiar smell filled her senses as her eyes snapped open. She sat up feverishly, restraining a wince at the pain that shot through her body. Stilling so much that she would pass for a store mannequin, she listened intently, taking in her surroundings. She was on her couch, a jacket sprawled over her. That was the familiar smell. A hint of coffee and refreshing aftershave. It was Peter's. Frowning, she fought to remember how she got here.

The last thing that came to mind was…no, no, she got out. She was home now. She was sure of it. Mostly.

As the noise (a clattering coming from the kitchen) continued, she stood up quietly, making sure not to put too much pressure on her aching limbs, walking towards her bedroom (her eyes never gracing the bed) reaching down underneath her dresser where she knew she kept her spare gun and clasping it tightly in her hand. Slowly, she tip-toed towards the kitchen, gun laying rigidly by her side as she peered around the door.

And there he was. Peter Bishop. Standing with his back to her, in the middle of her kitchen, preparing what seemed some sort of chicken dish. Olivia felt herself relax upon the sight of him. She remembered now that he had brought her home earlier today. She was home, at last.

She couldn't help but watch him a little longer, mesmerized as he pottered around, looking as if he knew exactly where everything was, as if he lived here. A minuscule, ghost of a smile graced her face at that particular thought, but she would not, could not, let herself indulge it. Now was not the time for ridiculous fantasies.

"Smells good," she said softly, but loud enough for him to hear over the noise of sizzling chicken.

He turned slowly, looking oddly like a child who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His eyes met hers and she saw the worry etched there for a split second before it was masked by a hint of amusement.

"Uh, thanks, I hope you don't mind…I thought you might be hungry so-"

He stopped talking abruptly as his eyes drifted down, noticing the gun still laying tightly in her hand. She saw the frown begin to form and not wishing to explain herself she stepped into the kitchen and began looking around at all the ingredients.

"I didn't even know I had a wok," she remarked, not looking at him, her eyes trained on the food he was now dishing out onto plates. "Looks good too," she finished, now only realising how truly hungry she actually was. She hardly had the best diet these last couple of months, not that it was ever particularly good.

"Yeah, I was surprised to find a wok and a ton of other unused kitchen utensils in a forgotten cabinet over there," Peter smirked as he pointed off to his left, "when I saw them they were just screaming to be used so I cooked up something I thought we'd both enjoy."

She turned towards him then, offering him a small smile of thanks. Eyeing some tomatoes and onions on a chopping board to her right, she decided she might as well make herself useful.

"Want any help?" she asked as a courtesy but already beginning to chop the onions. He laughed lightly, motioning for her to continue as he added the garlic potatoes to join the chicken.

Shaking her head, Olivia couldn't help but be impressed by Peter's culinary skills. The more she thought about it the more she realized that due to his past nomadic existence she just assumed that he would not bother to cook lavishly just for himself.

"Where did you learn to cook so well?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her as she added the onions and tomatoes to the salad bowl.

"Hey, you haven't tasted it yet, you don't know if I'm any good," he smirked in reply, offering her a teasing wink as he began to take the plates and cutlery over to the table. Olivia rolled her eyes in reply, placing the salad in the middle of the table before retrieving glasses.

Suddenly, she remembered what Peter told her earlier that day about her alter self removing all traces of alcohol from her house. She suppressed a sigh of bitter irritation. Just one other little change that threatened to be the breaking straw to her camel's back.

As if sensing her sudden irksome negativity, Peter suddenly veered to her left and pulled out something from a brown paper bag and setting it down in front of her.

"I remembered earlier that I had bought some white wine a couple of days ago but left it in the trunk of the station wagon. I know it's no scotch on the rocks or fine Irish whiskey but I thought it might do the trick."

She eyed the bottle for a moment before sneaking a quick glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He was searching for a cork screw, not noticing her gaze fixed upon him. As she stood there, rooted to the spot, staring down at the rather expensive looking wine she let her mind wander to what purpose this all was. She wanted to think that it was just one friend making another friend dinner but she knew, just knew that that it was much more than just that. Or at least it felt as such.

This remained the first time she and Peter had been entirely alone for a long period of time. The last eleven days consisted of her recovering in the hospital, with doctors and nurses and concerned friends, colleagues and bosses all littered around her. Not to mention frantically distraught scientists with serious guilt issues lingering just outside the door, almost afraid to let her eyes fall upon him.

And then there were those circumstances. The unspoken, unmentioned, unrelenting circumstances that surrounded them now. The memory. Memories. Of a different time. Not too long ago in reality but seemed almost a lifetime ago now.

The unsettling flicker of fear clawed at the edge of her reason, nibbling for her attention. All that had transpired over there came in flashes across her mind as she picked up the bottle and walked to the table. She didn't know if she was up to this. It all felt so, fresh, new, and yet oddly familiar in a sense. And even odder still - almost normal. Dinner, with a friend, normal.

If only she were that lucky.

"Here we go," Peter said, awaking her from her lingering reverie. Smiling, he set the last of the food down on the small table and took the seat opposite her. Olivia couldn't help but let her gaze fall upon him again, drinking in all that her olive eyes allowed.

It was invigorating seeing him again (more so then she'd care to admit) after what felt like many years. She felt almost, lighter around him, as if the burden had been lifted from her, albeit only slightly, barely noticeably really but still, it was just enough for her to truly appreciate everything she had been given back.

She felt compelled then, at that moment, to somehow voice her gratitude. But, like all things in her life, it was not as simple as she'd have liked. Really, on the surface, it would be appreciation for his company and dinner but deep down in the core of something she had yet to truly understand, they would both know it was something more. Something abnormal, intricate and more than likely flawed.

She knew she wasn't ready to deal with that yet.

So they ate in relative silence. Mutters of culinary compliments from her and mumbles of pleased thanks from him. Yet, it was not the awkward or borderline painful occurrence Olivia feared it would be. In fact, on her second glass of wine and last nibbles of salad she found her shoulders sink a little into a more relaxed stance.

The flow of conversation had yet to make an appearance but she found that she preferred it that way. The moment remained untainted by false light-hearted conversation or frantic slip-ups or words of wrong footing. It was just…them. Olivia and Peter, not Agent and Consultant or Gate-Keeper and…potential destroyer of the universes.

It was just them. Two people from two different backgrounds (that was putting it lightly) enjoying some good food and drink in a quiet apartment in Boston.

What could be more normal than that?

* * *

"_I'__m just saying, the remake was much better than the original…"_

"_How can you possibly say that? The original is always better then the remake. Look at any remake from the last decade and you'__d see that."_

"_Oh I dunno Dunham, I mean__ have you seen__ the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre?"_

_She rolled her eyes; she wasn__'__t even going to dignify that with a response._

"_Aha, see? You agree, right?"_

_Hell no. He did not just smirk._

"_No way. And besides, that doesn'__t count. Horror movies don__'__t count."_

"_Oh and what twisted reasoning is that?"_

"_Because they just don'__t."_

"_Oh so it'__s the reasoning according to Olivia Dunham. Just because, humm…how compelling."_

_She scowled, leaning across him and snatching the remote out of his grasp. His mouth dropped open at her sudden brashness and it remained open as she stayed firmly inches from his face. Looking into her eyes, he caught the bright shine of teasing that lilted her usual haunted orbs. It was a nice change to witness, seeing her so…carefree for once. He would not allow himself to think that he was the reason, he wasn't that conceited. But he would allow a flicker of hope, deep, deep down in his veins._

"_So, how long did Astrid agree to baby-sit Walter?" she asked, her hand skimming the hem of his shirt lightly, her eyes never leaving his._

_He couldn't contain the smirk that spread almost subconsciously across his face at her words._

"_I don't know. I didn't say when I'd be back."_

_She smiled then. And it was a smile like nothing he'd ever seen before. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever see such a smile come from Olivia Dunham, ever. It was one of mischief, suggestion and seductiveness and he found that he liked it. A lot._

_He reached up and trailed a hand through her newly re-dyed hair, the golden tendrils feeling soft to his touch. He lied to the other before, he much preferred her blonde._

"_Well in that case…" she trailed off quietly, closing the space between them, her lips capturing his._

_He could feel it then, and not for the first time, that something was off about this, about her, but his genius mind grew foggy as the kiss deepened, her fingers tracing his chest with a tantalizing slowness._

_Unbeknownst to him, she had a profound effect on him, that Olivia Dunham, just like the other one._

* * *

"Peter?" came a soft voice, drifting across the room.

His eyes snapped up and were met by hers, this universe's Olivia. The one that had been to hell and back (literally), the one he thought he had kissed that night and others like it, the one that now sat opposite him, looking slightly concerned.

"Uh yeah, 'Livia?"

Her frown deepened. He had been uncharacteristically quiet during their meal and now that they were finished, she feared that the awkwardness would soon begin. She shook her head, forcing out a wry smile of dismissal. He was just lost in thought, much like her.

Glancing down at her practically empty plate and draining the last of her wine she decided to give herself something to do, so she lifted up her plate and glass and sauntered into the kitchen, placing them under the faucet and grabbing a wash-cloth.

"Hey," a soft voice murmured behind her.

"Hey," she half-whispered, placing the washed plate down and grabbing a towel.

Slowly, she heard him approach her. She didn't look up as she felt his hand lightly brush hers and didn't protest as the towel was lightly tugged from her grasp. She watched, head down as he rolled up his sleeves and set to work drying the plate. Her eyes wandered down to her own hands that were drenched in water and bubbles.

It all felt terribly domestic. Here she was, just days after catapulting back from another universe after going through one of the worst experiences in her entire life, standing in the kitchen washing dishes with a man that had just cooked her a delicious meal. It was something she definitely wasn't used to.

She never thought of herself as being domestic (and neither did anyone else) but she could appreciate this moment. Appreciate it for what it was, a simple moment, between two people, a sweet, effortless instant that should remain untainted.

But, it seemed her conscious had another idea.

"How long was it?" the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Subconsciously she knew that that particular question had been floating around in her brain since she arrived back home, to her apartment, him in tow, but now, as she stood her at her kitchen sink, hands wet and shoulders sagged, she couldn't help but wonder if this was neither the time nor the place.

She felt rather than saw him falter. She knew that he had understood her admittedly vague question but was not surprised at his response.

"How long was what?"

Playing dumb did not suit him.

She turned to him then, ignoring the little splashes of water that dripped from hands and waited, just waited for him to look at her.

He didn't.

Slowly, she felt the assertive, unrelenting FBI Agent stance reappear in her. She did not want to interrogate him, nor did she want to skirt around the subject any longer. It seemed they were heading for an impasse. That is, until he turned, and looked her straight in the eyes.

"A while."

Well, that was enlightening.

"How long is a while, exactly? A couple of days? A week? A few weeks?" Words were flowing from her lips like a steady faucet. Her brain fought to keep up with her train surging remarks.

It seemed now was the time that Olivia Dunham finally got to see a speechless Peter Bishop (aside from the unspoken and definitely unforgotten tender moment shared whilst Over There) and she found that this was not a time where she welcomed him.

She wanted answers. Needed them. And no matter how hard she tried to rationalize it, convince herself that she was not ready for them, the more she just wanted to know, ask straight out. Take the direct approach. Make the best out of a bad situation.

And hell, did she do that.

"Peter…"

That was all he needed. His name on her lips and suddenly, he was undone. His words turned fluid, liquidating from his mouth in a frantic haze that even his genius mind found hard to follow.

"It took me longer to figure out then I'd like to admit, 'Livia. She-she had you down. The little things I began to notice but I'm ashamed to say that she fooled me and Walter and Astrid and even Broyles for a while. I-I can't make excuses for myself 'Livia, no matter how hard I want to. I-I should have known straight away, I know that and really there is no other way to…I should have known. She is not you. Definitely not you. But, she did her research and it took me…I don't know about two weeks to really know the truth.

"I'm not saying that I didn't have…doubts, 'Livia, because I did, there were these moments that…well, something just didn't feel right and I know I should have listened to my instincts but I just got caught up in…everything. The newness. Being back in this world knowing who I am and where I come from and everything with Walter and how to just live. But, it's not an excuse. It's not, I know that. And I'm sorry, so goddamn sorry that you had to go through so much when I just…when I was over here with…"

He trailed off, his head lowered so that she could no longer see his face.

Throughout his frenetic account Olivia stood, hands limply at her sides, drying slowly. Her face was blank, virtually unreadable, more so than he ever saw it and he found it hard to look at her when he spoke. But he forced himself to; he owed her that at least. But now that he'd finished, his eyes sunk to his shoes, the guilt, anger, pain, frustration and shame flooding his veins and pumping it throughout his body.

She made a noise, then and it startled him. It was a noise of acknowledgement that she had heard him, a simple "um hum" that he would not have expected after what he had just admitted. He feared that this was her walls going back up. The walls that he so carefully worked to pry down over the last two and a half years. He tried not to panic.

"Olivia-"

"-And what tipped you off? Did she slip up? 'Cause I wouldn't have."

They were looking at each other now. Sea green eyes meeting olive. He couldn't decide if the sheen to her eyes were unshed and unwelcome beginnings of tears of if it was just the lighting in the apartment. Somehow he thought it was the former, but desperately hoped it was the latter. He could not forgive himself already, he didn't know what he'd do if…

Except, it wasn't about him. It was about her. He couldn't be selfish now. He'd answer anything she asked, even it would pain him (and inevitably her) to do so.

"She-I-it wasn't a matter of slipping up, really. Things were just…off for too long for me to ignore anymore. She walked differently, talked differently, all little things but noticeable. She-her eyes were…"

He trailed off again, willing himself to continue, determinedly keeping her gaze.

"Her eyes were all wrong. When she looked at me…it was different. And when she-"

He cut himself off abruptly. There was no way he could possibly finish that sentence.

Her frown deepened, her teeth darting out to bite down on her lip. They stood in silence, both knowing in their hearts what he was going to say but both willing and unwilling to say or hear it. It was quite the conundrum.

One that Olivia decided to solve.

"When she kissed you?"

They both knew that this would lead to bad, bad places. But this can of worms had been opened and there was nothing either of them could do to stop it.

**A/N: I am not happy with this chapter. I have literally been working on it for weeks on and off and felt that this was as close as I could get to satisfactory. ****I'm worried about the characterization and other niggling things. I may change it. Don't worry, if I do I will give plenty of notice!**

**Here's a TEASER to what's going down in the next chapter.**

**1. Walter! (And Walternate)**

**2. Continuation of above – I'll try not to be as angsty. **

**3. Lab!**

**SNIPPET:**

"_Because when it all comes down to it Livia, it's my fault. If it weren't for me this never would have happened. If I never went over to the other si-"_

"_Stop it, Peter. Just…stop."_

**Finally just a note, I am European so that spelling/grammar etc. may differ. I'm trying to 'Americanize' as best I can.**

**A review would be lovely! =] x**


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